


Ever Incomplete

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (honestly mixed BE/GD endgame but it's fine), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Post-Crimson Flower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21826030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: The missing piece had been with Edelgard all along.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 13
Kudos: 189





	Ever Incomplete

Edelgard never imagined that she would miss her Crests.

The ache was a tender hollowness, like the phantom of long-shorn hair when wind brushed the back of one's neck. She remembered their weight, the movement under her skin whenever Aymr struck true. Said axe now was lost far below the earth, sacrificed in the battle that destroyed the last remnants of Those Who Slither in the Dark. A handful of calluses lingered beneath her formal gauntlets, but the tender services of her attendants smoothed them away day by day.

The scars, however, would remain.

Fódlan was united under her rule, and the Church of Seiros had collapsed. Many secular organizations had risen in its place, bringing together wayward knights and priests in dire need of a cause. Strangely, faith was a far more complicated thing when saints walked the earth, rather than cradled on a pedestal of myths and legends. To believe was simple, but to  _ know _ was so much harder.

She knew too much, had seen too much. The truth behind Nemesis and Thales had shaken the foundation of her own beliefs, and returning to the surface felt like being reborn, sightless and off-balance. 

Soft footsteps stole Edelgard from her reverie, but her eyes remained on the horizon. There were only three people permitted to enter the private balcony attached to her quarters, and two of them were elsewhere - Hubert had matters to attend to with Dorothea in Enbarr proper, and Byleth was on a solitary retreat. Fishing, most likely.

"You were right about the council meeting," Lysithea said by way of greeting, "the lords were far more cooperative without you there."

Edelgard smiled as the other woman joined her, leaning gilt-shrouded elbows back against the balcony. "They find me intimidating."

"And I'm not intimidating?" Lysithea countered, one pale brow arched in amusement.

"You are," Edelgard admitted with a tilt of her head; anyone who had seen Lysithea cast a spell would have the sense to agree. "But they see you as the force that tempers me. I am the storm they must shelter themselves against to stay in power."

Bright eyes rolled, dismissive. "Then the lords are out of luck. I have every intention of making sure the people rule in Fódlan."

"I know." It was exactly why Edelgard had trusted Lysithea with her life, time and again. Countless nights were burned away tracking the Agarthans, and countless more discerning the truth of their shared condition. 

Without Byleth, she would have never defeated Rhea, but without Lysithea, Edelgard knew she would be dead.

That truth cast a certain shade of melancholy over, well, everything. Yet Edelgard was determined to fight it, and kept a smile affixed to her lips. "Do you know what the lords call you when they think you're not listening?"

Lysithea frowned. "Do I want to know? What they used to say to my face when House Ordelia was in the Alliance was bad enough."

"They say you're the Wisdom of the Empire," Edelgard replied.

A pale pink blush spilled across Lysithea's cheeks, matching the pleasant cast of her eyes. "I...I don't think I'm old enough to be anyone's wisdom."

They were both still so young -- twenty-three and twenty -- yet Edelgard felt as if they had walked in step for decades. Lysithea's spite for those who pointed out her age had waned with every grueling victory; now she understood how much power she held, far sooner than anyone else around her.

"While I cherish every moment I can educate my fellow nobles on their deep-seated flaws," Edelgard's tone turned wry, "in this case, I must agree with their assessment."

Lysithea's face was now a perfect shade of rose. "Hush, you."

"Is that a command, my Wisdom?" Edelgard replied, far more daring than she felt. 

With a beleaguered huff, Lysithea shoved her shoulder, and Edelgard countered by trapping the other woman's wrist. Lysithea turned to slip the hold, attempting to prod Edelgard right between her golden horns with her other hand, but the result was the two of them tangled and laughing like they were at Garreg Mach again, learning how to trust each other, learning what a kind touch felt like.

Edelgard intended to get the upper hand, but victory came at the price of pinning Lysithea against the balcony, and both of them froze when their bodies came together. Her breath was quick, threatening to stopper in Edelgard's throat as Lysithea's heated exhale spilled against her lips. 

They were so close, and it felt right. It felt  _ good. _

"Edelgard." She watched her name travel up Lysithea's throat, curving her lips before they parted. "Please."

Yearning pierced through rose-colored eyes, more beautiful than the stained glass of any cathedral, any monument, any true flower. Terror quickened Edelgard's heart in turn, but she had not come this far to be stopped by fear, not after everything they had survived.

She tilted her head to kiss Lysithea, although she had no idea what to do save for seeking the other woman's lips. It was fumbling but soft, twin bows of heat, colliding and bending before taking shape again. Lysithea pursued her in turn with no greater skill, but just as much passion. That was all that mattered.

When Edelgard found the will to withdraw, her heart was hammering so hard and fast it felt like the Crest of Flames was beneath her skin again. She drew in a shaking breath, then confessed the truth before her courage slipped away.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

Lysithea bit her lip; it tempted Edelgard to kiss her again. “Why didn’t you?”

Edelgard’s mouth flattened into a rueful line. “There have been rumors about us for years. I wished they were true, but they weren’t, and to pursue you amidst such gossip felt like pressuring—“

“Edelgard von Hresvelg,” Lysithea interrupted. She adored the way the other woman said her name, even when irked, sharp but fond. “Since when have you given a damn about what others think?”

“Quite often,” Edelgard demurred, “when it comes to you.”

"I..." A blush rose to Lysithea's face again, and despite a venting sigh, the color remained firmly in place. "Was that your first too?"

Now it was Edelgard's turn to feel heat rush across her skin, tapering up her spine like the tip of a white-hot blade. "Yes. Although Dorothea offered to educate me once, if I was interested."

A laugh burst from Lysithea's throat. "That sounds exactly like her. I'm surprised you didn't say yes."

"I was tempted," Edelgard admitted softly, "but it seemed cruel to kiss her and think of someone else."

There was a second's hesitation, embarrassment putting a faint gleam in Lysithea's gaze. "...Hilda offered me the same."

It was Edelgard's turn to laugh, and the warmth that filled her was a comfort this time. "Did she ever figure out that you wanted someone else? Dorothea did, eventually."

"Mhmm," Lysithea murmured. "She guessed right, too. And then was very frustrated that I wouldn't confess my feelings. Since we both--"

"Were going to die," Edelgard finished, her face falling.

She felt Lysithea's body tense against hers and regretted the words, but Lysithea's expression was pure empathy. "Since we both had two Crests. Hilda knew we understood each other in a way no one else could."

And now they would live. What had been taken had been restored, and despite the occasional noble squabble, Fódlan stood at peace. There was a future, one they could hold in their minds, a vision to strive towards.

Pride told Edelgard that Lysithea's eyes filled with tears first, but in truth, it was near-simultaneous.

"Don't cry!" Lysithea protested, her cheeks immediately wet. "When you cry, I can't help myself."

"The feeling is mutual," Edelgard whispered. "What a fool I was to hide myself from you."

"No more a fool than I." Slender fingers traced slowly up Edelgard's back, finding the point of the heart just below bare skin. "How can I be your Wisdom if I turned away from this?"

"You can still be mine." The words slipped from Edelgard's mouth before she realized their enormity, the implication, and she hastened to add, "That is, if you want to be."

"I do," Lysithea answered without hesitation, "and you can be mine too."

Tears spilled down Edelgard's face in twin lines, and she resisted the initial impulse to wipe them away. This wasn't weakness; it was freedom. "Equality in all things, I see."

"Hush, you." Another kiss found her lips, messy but firm with confidence. "All things indeed."

They stayed out on the balcony a while longer -- embracing, yes, but also sharing all of the things the years had hidden away, whether by fear or necessity. It was a gentle unveiling, tracing old scars and new nerves, regrown year by agonizing year. 

It was remembrance and solace, and dare she confess it? 

Happiness, more hard-won than any other victory.

**Author's Note:**

> I shall sing of Night, Mother of gods and men.  
> Night -- and let us call her Kypris -- gave birth to all.  
> Hearken, O blessed goddess, jet-black and star-lit,  
> Whose delight is in quiet and slumber-filled serenity.  
> Cheerful and delightsome, O mother of dreams, you love the nightlong revel,  
> And your gentleness rids of cares, and offers respite from toil.  
> Giver of sleep, beloved of all you are, as you drive your steeds and gleam in darkness.
> 
> Ever incomplete, now terrestrial and now again celestial,  
> You circle around in pursuit of sprightly phantoms,  
> You force light into the nether world, and again you flee into Hades.  
> Dreadful Necessity governs all things.  
> But now, O blessed one, yea beatific and desired by all,  
> I call on you to grant a kind ear to my voice of supplication,  
> And benevolent, come to disperse fears that glisten in the dark.  
> \--Orphic hymn to Nyx, Apostolos Athanassakis


End file.
